Them (Ternion)
by Otherwise Uncolonized
Summary: A perfect ever after, with the perfect them, wouldn't feature a story about a lost boy who wanted to be numb and an innocent girl who had to thaw him because the Snow Queen stole his heart. It would be about how the girl thawed them both, because love always thaws, and they all needed love. They all needed warmth. #POLYAMORY
1. I

**[ 웃유 | 유]**

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 **[ one /: "u s" ]**

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 _"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"_

Musical numbers.

He isn't crazy about them, but she likes them. He doesn't totally understand why she likes them, but if they light her up, then that's all he claims to care about. The perpetual thinning of her hair ― if not just about full-blown baldness ― makes her sad on many lonely weekends, so he tries to create a safe enough haven where, on a good day, she can bounce around the condo singing the songs of his moneymakers, particularly every number from, _"The Tangled Tales of Rapunzel."_ Each verse has been custom-made to serve as a self-surrogate for her.

 _Rapunzel_ , the sunflower girl.

 _Rapunzel_ , the frying pan warrior.

 _Rapunzel_ , the lost princess.

And she wants to believe that she's a lost princess. That the prickly hair on her head only sheds to make room for a diamond tiara and sunshine strands instead. It became a harmless term of endearment, at first ― to call her _Rapunzel_ ; to nickname her _Blondie_ ― because at least it took her mind off her sob story. But she grew used to answering to _"Rapunzel"_ until she preferred it since _"Flower"_ was what Mother had named her. Everyday he tells her that she looks beautiful without her long blonde wigs, that she needn't try to be society's stereotypical blonde, or some gorgeous conventional beauty from _"My Fair Lady,"_ which Mother would pit her against.

And she wants to believe it.

Because he loves her buck teeth.

He loves her stubby hair.

He loves her chickenpox freckles.

He loves her piglet snout.

He loves her even though she doesn't know who she is yet.

And it helps that he **knows**. He knows what it is to feel like "you" aren't enough.

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 **[ two /: "h e r" ]**

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She takes her breath away after the first song.

With her mellow smile, raised chin, folded hands, and elegant carriage, she's like the _Christine Daae_ of Broadway. And above all else, she's enchanting. Swanlike, even. A shimmering siren who speaks to one's soul with her powerhouse voice. She stirs everyone's inmost emotions by exploding with her own, working as the raw vessel people can project themselves onto, like a real actress.

"We gotta have 'er," Eugene blubbers in the theatre, watching her like she's a shiny piece of merchandise to add to his inventory. "She's a walking, talking carbon copy wrapped up in one sellable package."

These little parts of speech don't mean anything past work. It's just business. His art. And she's a walking, talking carbon copy wrapped up in one sellable package. Men want her, women want to be her, and he wants to cash in on what everyone else wants.

So Rapunzel pets the back of her lace front and nods in agreement. "I think she'll make a **great** Snow Queen for your musical, Eugene."

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 **[ three /: "them" ]**

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She's forgettable in her first reading. Modest. Soft-spoken.

"Underwhelmingly understated," Eugene quietly criticizes.

She reads her lines with passivity and poise, which isn't required for the villain she'll play. Then she sings with power and passion. The musical's empowering tune about _letting go_ and just _being you._ All at once, she is larger than life.

And Rapunzel can't stop staring at her.

Her husband can't stop staring at her, either.

"What did you say her name was again?"

"Elsa."

"... _Elsa_."

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 **[ four /: "h i m" ]**

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Sighing about the foretellable success his project will now have, Eugene comes home late that night and puts one of his scripts down. He's always piling stories on the coffee table.

 _Anna and the King_ is trending on Netflix, so they snuggle up on the couch to rate it while she sketches pictures of Elsa in the Snow Queen's ice dress. Her hand has to reach higher to find a tendril, making her sad again, but her eyes try to focus on Anna's kiss with the king to make her feel happy again. She playfully mentions how unnatural it is for King Mongkut to have so many wives. Eugene jokes about how amusing it would be if polygamy was legal.

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 **[ five /: "them" ]**

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"Hi."

"...Hey."

Elsa glided into Eugene's _"For Cast & Crew" _wineglass party in a tight, turquoise dress. Her hourglass figure is obvious, but he acts like he doesn't notice. Says her legs must've been freezing in the New York weather.

Elsa says the cold never bothers her.

He says she must've lacked a normal body temperature.

This passive aggressive banter goes on until they aren't talking to anyone else for an hour.

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 **[ six /: "h e r" ]**

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Eugene wants Elsa to rehearse the line, _"The cold never bothered me, anyway,"_ again and again.

He wants her to be _sexy._

She's too embarrassed to be. Painfully embarrassed. Adorably embarrassed. But eventually she curls her mouth the way he likes it, and wags her eyebrow right at him, repeating the line with the sultriest purr ever.

"...Would 'jou...mind saying that one more time?" he peeps, making everyone, including Elsa, laugh in embarrassment.

Rapunzel rolls her eyes with a smirk. It didn't mean anything. Her husband just likes to be silly. It's always harmless.

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 **[ seven /: "them" ]**

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Elsa kisses terribly on stage.

"You're serving it too cold."

Elsa is meant to kiss Kai twice, the adult prince Eugene's _Snow Queen_ has to freeze. She has to kiss him once to numb him from the cold, and a second time to make him forget about his―

"Downer sob story," Eugene shoehorns in. "She's giving the ultimate offer: 'Do you want to be numb?' This is a woman who's been told that she can't be who she is her entire life. Right now is the one and only time she's ever been in control of something ― and some- **one**. So when they kiss, it has to be **electric**. The Snow Queen has been a snow-capped volcano for twenty-one years, and you have to embody all of that: the broken girl and the empowered woman."

But Elsa can't kiss Kai the way Eugene likes it. She can't kiss him fiercely. She can only kiss him self-consciously ― timidly ― like she's scared of giving him frostbite. Scared to erupt and let go.

So Eugene asks to see Elsa privately in order to _"pick her brain and draw her out"_ after rehearsal.

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 **[ eight /: "them" ]**

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Rapunzel finds them backstage.

Elsa with her hands folded against her chest. Eugene with his arms crossed as he leans against the wooden post.

Elsa is mouthing something about _"side effects."_ Something about how she doesn't know if she can go on. How she's sorry to be an _inconvenience._

Eugene touches her forearm, cranes his neck out, and says, _"Hey..."_

She looks up at him like a little girl.

He smiles apologetically. Apologizing to her. For her. For this. And tells her never to apologize for anything again.

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 **[ nine /: "h i m" ]**

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After a quick breakfast at home, Eugene says he wants to make a sequel. Says he wants to make it a love story about the Snow Queen's hands. About her loving her hands.

Rapunzel doesn't understand. What do hands have to do with a frozen heart?

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 **[ ten /: "h e r" ]**

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Elsa doesn't look the same at rehearsal. She's holding her elbows all the time. Carrying her gloves all the time. Smiling tiredly all the time.

And above all else, she isn't beautiful anymore. Ugly, even. _'Hauntingly dead.'_

"Elsa, is everything okay? You don't look like you're feeling too well," Rapunzel points out.

"I'm fine." She's tight-lipped. "I just didn't get enough sleep last night, that's all."

When Elsa leaves, Eugene says she's lying. He says she has lupus. Then he says he didn't say it.

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 **[ eleven /: "us" ]**

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With the help of Rapunzel's candidness, she and Elsa manage to talk about their autoimmune ailments in an empty cafe.

Elsa says hers comes with _Raynaud's_ _Phenomenon_ although she's been in remission for sometime. Says she has to go to therapy and monitor her stress levels. She even says that other kids treated her like "a monster" when they saw her fingertips, so she never showed them. Uncontrollable lupus flares ― or at least what her paranoid parents groomed her into _believing_ were uncontrollable ― made her ashamed of exposing her arms in the past because the rashes they left caused people to ask her if she had Eczema. Isolation was her only medication for much of her life.

Teary-eyed, Rapunzel tells her that she understands how she feels. The world she comes from. How it helps that Elsa knows what it is to feel like "you" aren't enough.

Elsa tells her that Eugene already knows about her illness but tries to keep it a secret like he's kept Rapunzel's.

"That sounds _just_ like him. He doesn't want people to know, but he's really a sweetheart on the inside."

Elsa smiles tightly and says she already knows.

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 **[ twelve /: "her" ]**

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Elsa teaches her how to whisk away the tool marks on a clay sculpture one Saturday.

They're both artists, but Rapunzel has never sculpted anything before. It feels awkward to have Elsa's hand guide her hand, but she tries to hide her jitters as much as she can.

Elsa puts her hair behind the shells of her ears, just grazing the pink skin with her fingernails, making them tingle. "You have to put your hair back before you sculpt."

Rapunzel nervously bites the corner of her smile. She's shown Elsa her real hair because she knows Elsa understands the burden of hiding your flaws. She knew Elsa wouldn't judge her. She knew Elsa wouldn't call her a freak like Mother used to imply.

"...You know ― your hair is very pretty just the way it is," Elsa adds.

She smiles bashfully. Elsa is beautiful, and there's something warm about her, like the way her eyes go gentle when she smiles warmly at you. Just you. But she's a hypocrite, too.

"You should like every part of yourself," Elsa continues, still smiling.

Her heart won't stop pounding because Elsa is saying that she likes her.

Elsa likes her buck teeth.

Elsa likes her stubby hair.

Elsa likes her chickenpox freckles.

Elsa likes her piglet snout.

Elsa likes her even though she doesn't know who she is yet.

And she tells herself that she likes Elsa back.

She likes Elsa's snow-white teeth.

She likes Elsa's ice-blonde hair.

She likes Elsa's flawless skin.

She likes Elsa's pert nose.

She likes Elsa because Elsa wants to be Elsa and no one else.

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 **[ thirteen /: "h i m" ]**

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Elsa is called "captivating" by critics at the premiere. It was true, because her dancing and singing made her heart do both. Her knees like to go weak for colorful choreography and big numbers. Things that remind her of fairy tales and princesses. Happily ever afters and girl empowerment anthems.

"G'ad..." Eugene had mumbled during Elsa's performance, barely getting the breath past his teeth.

Elsa was waltzing across the stage on her tippy-toes by herself during, "Let It Go." The transparent layers of her sapphire dress flew under her like a spinning flower. Her flushed throat glowed like a red wineglass, and the overhead lights made her sweat gleam like sugar.

And Eugene sat there staring at her like he was having a hard time swallowing. But it didn't mean anything. Her husband just likes to go weak in the knees for pretty, shiny things. Things that remind him of sapphires and diamonds.

A Dalmatian never loses its spots, after all. Especially one in withdrawal. It's always harmless. Just part of marital transitions.

Every other wife says that, so it has to be true.

...But she wonders if he thinks about Elsa the way other men say they do. She wonders if he thinks Elsa is beautiful, because she is and she's not.

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 **[ fourteen /: "u s" ]**

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They have their first wedding anniversary on the same night of the premiere. He makes love to her six times in a row. Has a blackout in the fifth. He's never blacked out before. He's never made love to her six times before. He's never touched her like he was touching someone new.

He kisses her between tangled sheets on the next morning, muttering sweet, romantic nothings in silly innuendos as he nuzzles her hedgehog scalp. He likes it just the way it is, he says. Tells her how beautiful she is with her short, muddy hair _(or lack of)._

She wraps the covers around her body and sulks because she isn't.

Mother always said she wasn't, and it is one of the only sayings from her that remains true.

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 **[ fifteen /: "h e r" ]**

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They all meet in the cafe.

Rapunzel awkwardly clutches a lock from her wig.

Elsa thoughtfully sips water from her cup.

Eugene clears his throat to ask Elsa how her hands are doing.

She says that they're fine, amused by how he asks.

Elsa always says things are fine, but that day she kept looking at her hands like she didn't know them.

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 **[ sixteen /: "h e r" ]**

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Rapunzel meets Elsa in the cafe.

Elsa awkwardly smiles at her from the rim of her cup.

Rapunzel thoughtfully tugs on a lock from her wig.

Elsa clears her throat to ask her how her art commissions are coming along.

She says that they're fine, tickled by how she asks. Then Rapunzel asks her what type of men she likes.

Elsa takes ten seconds to think. "I've never been attracted to men or women before."

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 **[ seventeen /: "t h e m" ]**

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Elsa misses three shows for her doctor appointments.

They visit her at her apartment. Upon entry, she doesn't look the same. She's holding her elbows, but she's not wearing gloves. Her fingers are exposed, and they look whiter than snow.

"It's been this way for three days," she says.

"Three whole days?" Rapunzel exclaims, mortified.

Elsa adds that her doctor is handling it.

Eugene says she's lying.

Elsa says she's fine.

This passive aggressive argument goes on until they aren't talking to each other for an hour.

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 **[ eighteen /: "h e r" ]**

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Elsa misses three shows in a row.

They call her cellphone.

She doesn't answer.

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 **[ nineteen /: "h e r" ]**

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Elsa leaves the show altogether.

They call her cellphone.

She answers.

Then she cries.

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 **[ twenty /: "h e r" ]**

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They're invited to Elsa's apartment after her joints have stopped hurting.

Upon entry, she looks sickly. Unhealthy. Ashen. Broken. Yet she smiles at them like everything is fine. Because everything is always fine.

There are so many ways you want to hold Elsa but can't, because she's always fine and you always have to say _okay._ If you don't say _okay,_ she gets up and leaves.

Eugene reaches across Elsa's dining room table and squeezes her gloved hand.

She smiles uncomfortably, unable to look him in the eye.

He smiles back. Apologizing to her. For her. For this. And tells her to never shut them out again.

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 **[ twenty-one /: "us" ]**

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They're invited to Elsa's apartment after her rashes have stopped blooming.

 _The Dare_ is trending on Netflix, so they camp out on the couch to rate it while Rapunzel sketches pictures of Elsa in the Snow Queen's coronation dress. The main cast has two boys and one girl weaved into a three-pronged relationship.

Elsa falls asleep with her hand in Eugene's and her cheek on Rapunzel's shoulder.

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 **[ twenty-two /: "us" ]**

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They're invited to Elsa's apartment after her fevers have stopped peaking.

 _Anna and the King_ is trending on Netflix, so they sit in the dining room to devour it while Eugene writes stories in his lap.

Elsa disapprovingly mentions how unnatural it is or King Mongkut to have so many wives.

Rapunzel jokes about how amusing it would be if polygamy was legal.

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 **[ twenty-three /: "them" ]**

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She finds them in the kitchen after the movie ends.

Elsa with her hands folded against her chest. Eugene with his hands on her elbows. She mouths something about _kidneys_ as she stares at the tiles. Something about how she doesn't know if she can go on. About how she doesn't want to tell _her_.

"Elsa..." Eugene rubs her arm, both of which she has crossed. He places a hand on her nape and gives it a reassuring stroke, trying desperately to make her look at him.

Elsa holds the bridge of her finger under her nose, trying desperately not to cry.

He pulls her in and wraps an arm around her, setting the side of his chin against her temple. She takes to his shoulder like a drowning child clutching onto a life saver.

It was odd, the way they were intertwined like two Greek gods in a painting, because it made Rapunzel want to wrap her arms around them both.

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 **[ twenty-four /: "h e r" ]**

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Elsa arrives unannounced. She says that she has something of Rapunzel's to return.

When Rapunzel unwraps it, she realizes that it's the small head bust they made together. "You _kept_ this...?!"

"Of course I did. It's beautiful." Elsa's voice is cotton-soft. "But I thought you should have it, since you put so much work and effort into it."

Rapunzel looks up at her. She's holding her elbows again. Looking misshapen and humpbacked again. The face aged by months of internally fighting her own body's cells again. But she's still beautiful, and there's still something warm about her, like the way her eyes go gentle when she smiles tenderly at her. Just her.

Rapunzel smiles back to conceal her butterflies. "Why don't you come inside?" she says it like a nun standing in the door of an orphanage.

"I don't want to impose," Elsa's mouth says, but her face says something different.

"Don't be silly! You're always welcome here."

Still she declines. Her lips say she has a dentist appointment, but her eyes say something different.

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 **[ twenty-five /: "them** **" ]**

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He's been talking on the phone all afternoon. Sitting in the corner of the window. Speaking in low murmurs. Mouthing something about _anesthesia_ and _hospitals_.

Rapunzel asks him to tell her what's going on.

He says that Elsa's kidney transplant date has been put on the rocks.

She asks him why Elsa didn't tell her first and why he didn't tell her until she asked him first.

Eugene looks guilty.

She can't hear his answer because her blood is screaming in her ears.

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 **[ twenty-six/: "h e r** **" ]**

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Elsa is admitted into the hospital one month later without telling them.

They pray for her in the waiting room, which feels like the saddest, most useless thing they've ever done.

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 **[ twenty-seven /: "h e r" ]**

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They come to see Elsa in the hospital without telling her.

She won't respond to anything they blubber out.

So they stop talking.

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 **[ twenty-eight /: "h e r" ]**

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They knock on Elsa's door after she's released without telling them.

She won't answer.

So they keep knocking.

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 **[ twenty-nine /: "h e r" ]**

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They call Elsa's cellphone after she hurts herself without telling them.

She answers. Then she cries. Apologizes for how distant she's been, saying she hopes she can see them as soon as possible.

They arrive an hour later.

She looks like a dead cat instead of a living person.

They try to talk about Elsa's sculpture art and all the things they can still do together while she's bedridden, trying to make her forget about the pain.

Rapunzel promises that she and Eugene will cook for her, which he tries to weasel out of. But for all his jokes and funning, he keeps looking at Elsa like he misses the actress who sang with power and passion.

She misses the Snow Queen, too.

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 **[ thirty /: "us" ]**

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They're invited to Elsa's apartment after she has stopped feeling anemic.

Eugene asks both girls why they like musicals.

Rapunzel says it's because they make her feel alive.

Elsa says it's because they make her listeners feel empowered.

Eugene says he still hates them.

" _Eu_ _-_ gene, _"_ Rapunzel playfully chides.

"What?"

Both girls laugh, and it's the first time that Rapunzel has heard Elsa laugh in ages. She even thinks she saw Elsa and Eugene smirking behind their tea cups like two mischievous children bantering with their eyes. After a quick breakfast together, Elsa asks Eugene why he wanted to write a prequel for the _Snow Queen_ franchise in the first place.

"Well," he starts, having been sifting through his wife's old ice dress sketches for the musical. "It was actually one of my favorite books when I was growing up. I could get behind the whole idea of a magic mirror making people rotten and cruel. It was sort of a comforting thought as a kid, you know? To imagine that people aren't _really_ cold at heart in real life; they just have shards of a demonic mirror wedged in their souls like little grains of sand."

Elsa smiles sympathetically while Eugene hams. She knows he's forcing his lightheartedness. But Rapunzel, as his wife, thinks about his eyes whenever he avoids talking about foster care and and who he really is inside.

Maybe he wants to be numb sometimes, too.

Maybe Kai is Eugene and Eugene is Kai.

Hopefully that makes her Gerda.

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 **[ thirty-one /: "h i m" ]**

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When Eugene leaves to go grocery shopping, Elsa asks Rapunzel about his past. She says that she doesn't want to pry, but she can't help but wonder about him and why he is the way he is. "He seems afraid to be himself. Afraid to feel."

Rapunzel's at a loss for words. She never expected Elsa to intuit that, but she decides to tell his story as carefully as she can.

After the story ends, Elsa falls silent. Her eyes are glazed. "...I wish he could've told me sooner," she says, "but I see now why he never talks about himself..."

Rapunzel said the same thing when she met him. Only two years after Eugene was born on the floor of a hotel room, people always took it upon themselves to ask him, _"What do you want to be when you grow up?"_ to make sure that he knew his parents were failures. And he'd say, _"I wanna be big ― and I wanna be rich,"_ to make sure that they knew he'd never be his parents. Back then, he thought his words were interchangeable with, "Broadway." Of course, he didn't just want to be _on_ Broadway; he wanted to _be_ Broadway.

His hotel slept across the street from a theatre, so he made it a ritual to leave his lonely bed and sit in front of the marquees with his teddy bear if he couldn't sneak into the wonderland behind the glass doors. He married the flashy lights, the royal architecture, the swashbuckling actor ads, and every sparkly poster of pageant-perfect actresses in the chapel of his brain. Singing was something he could do without, but he loved the vibrancy of the performers, the endless _drama_ and _flair_ that they portrayed, the world of happily ever afters. As far as galaxies went, Broadway was the solar system of his universe. Kid Eugene would prance back to the hotel well into the wees hours to gloat to every janitor in sight that his mother was Satine and his father was Christian from Moulin Rouge, not some homeless woman with cancer and a married banker with satyriasis.

This was why they never had time for him, he bragged; they were actors actually _doing_ something with their lives. On Thanksgiving, his mother overdosed in bed while he was asleep. Social services took him away from his universe and her foaming face, but ― at the very least ― not his dream. Loneliness and low self esteem parented him after that point, grooming his aloof nature and bad habits, yet he remained adventurous throughout, forever keeping his carefree head in the clouds to stop the real world's sewage from polluting his dreams. However, Eugene grew number as a person.

His adolescent star-power as a Broadway actor fizzled out with a puff of smoke left behind him. He's had more success as a children's author, less as a theatre director, and hopes to gain a smidgen as a playwright/director, which is typically unheard of. Musicals didn't become his "thing" until he met Rapunzel. And she's glad for it. But...

"He wouldn't want you to feel bad for him," Rapunzel tells Elsa, trying to put her mind at ease.

"Still..." Elsa doesn't say more.

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 **[ thirty-two /: "them" ]**

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When Rapunzel leaves Elsa's bedroom to cook dinner for her, she hears Eugene ask Elsa if they can talk.

The talk is long.

Before the stove is turned off, Eugene walks into the kitchen and stutters to Rapunzel about the hug Elsa had ambushed him with.

Rapunzel smiles. "Maybe Elsa just likes warm hugs!"

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 **[ thirty-three /: "us" ]**

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They're invited to Elsa's apartment after she has stopped feeling nauseous.

She looks better. Like a living person instead of a dead cat. The cortisone makes her cheeks puffy, though.

Eugene shows both girls what has been in his heart for months by peeling back the pages, clearing his throat, and reading it out loud, "Frostflowers and Sunflakes."

Elsa snorts at the title before trying to hide her breathy laugh behind her hand.

He looks embarrassed. Painfully embarrassed. Adorably embarrassed."Well...aw'right, okay ― so the TITLE needs a little help, but...still." He drops it on the coffee table, where all his other stories have began and ended. "I made it."

They both observe the sketch on the cover page. He's no artist, but the snowflake and sun symbol make a creative pair.

"I'm sure it's very good," Elsa says, looking apologetically unsure of what else to say.

"That's not what I meant." He grows shier as he wrings his hands. "What I'm saying is that I made it. As in, for you two."

"...You did?" Rapunzel wants to say _awww_.

"...Both of us?" Elsa is shocked, but Rapunzel isn't.

He goes on to explain that it's about Rapunzel warming the Snow Queen with her sunshine hair. The former was locked in a tower because of her gift, and the latter was locked in a castle because of her curse, but their connecting point was a thief who wanted to be famous for stealing the magic hair and thawing the frozen heart.

"That sounds like a mess," Elsa sheepishly says.

"...Thank you for rewarding my endeavors," he sarcastically says. He then says the musical will get better. That all three will learn to be okay with being who they are once they understand that certain labels don't define them. He just doesn't know how it will end, or how they'll end.

"I think it's wonderful so far, Eugene," Rapunzel encourages.

"It's an interesting concept," Elsa agrees.

Eugene pouts. He looks like he wants to throw the story away and say he never should've brought it up because it was corny and now they know what's been in his heart. They both pat his legs, pretending to pity him as a duo. He pretends to sigh.

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 **[ thirty-four /: "them" ]**

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Rapunzel is invited to spend the night with Elsa until her heart palpitations have stopped hammering her bones. She holds Elsa in her arms until they both fall asleep.

Eugene comes in the morning with breakfast while Rapunzel is cleaning Elsa's living room. He asks her if Elsa is still sleeping.

She tells him that she's probably up now.

He drifts in like a breeze, trying to be the lighthearted one for all three of them in this situation, but Rapunzel knows he's the most scared out of all three of them, and follows him to be nosy.

Elsa is in bed taking her medication. She looks like a dead cat instead of a living person. Eugene asks Elsa how she's feeling.

"Like a zombie," she says. She explains that she needs higher doses of prednisone because she's having trouble walking to the bathroom at night.

Shaken up by that info, Eugene makes a promise to go with her to the doctor tomorrow.

Elsa presses the tissue against her mouth, trembling like something is hammering her bones. Eugene sits on the bed and rubs her back. Elsa turns her head away.

He closes his arm around her back and pulls her closer. "Don't shut me out right now," his deep voice gently nudges. "Talk to me."

She won't.

He asks her what she needs from him.

She stuffily asks for the house shoes that are halfway across the room.

He kneels down and slips her tiny feet into their heads, pausing to stroke her swollen ankles. "I remember when these used to dance..."

Elsa looks down at him. He looks up at her. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. His face says he wants to hold her, but his arms don't do it. Her face screams that she wants to be held, but her lips don't ask.

Rapunzel wishes Elsa knew how to ask.

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 **[ thirty-five /: "them" ]**

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They're invited to Elsa's apartment after she has stopped crying over the phone.

Eugene brings a gift that makes her eyes even puffier.

"...Why're you giving this to me...?"

"Because...! Because..." Sigh. "Because I was hoping you'd remember how you.. _.were_ when we all met..."

Her brow wrinkles.

He looks like he wants to hold her hand, but he doesn't. "When you're on that stage, you're not acting; you're _feeling_." Which was the total opposite of Eugene during his brief Broadway run. "This role was made for you, Elsa. Not the other way around."

Elsa's inhale is studded with incoming tears.

Eugene smiles. He still isn't crazy about musical numbers, but Elsa's voice has revolutionized them. He doesn't totally understand how she's put new meaning into them the way she has, but if doing so lights her up, then he says that's all he'd like to have back. The perpetual whitening of her fingertips still makes her sad on many lonely weekends, so he promises to try to create a safe enough haven where, on a good day, she can hum the songs of his old musicals in her bed, particularly every line from, _"Let It Go."_ Each verse has already been remade into an embodiment of her.

Elsa stares at him like she finally knows how to see what she's seeing in his eyes.

...And it must help that he knows what it is to feel like "you" aren't enough.

So Rapunzel watches as Eugene watches Elsa's eyes love the pages of his old _Snow Queen_ script. She watches as Elsa strokes her chapped lips and smiles, cradling the stapled pages against her heart with her eyes in her lap. She watches as Eugene watches her face flower with tears and roses. Then he smiles shyly, and looks down.

"...Thank you, Eugene."

"You're welcome."

It feels odd to watch them from the hallway, like the way they don't look at each other but still smile, because it makes Rapunzel want to smile, too.

.

.

 **[ thirty-six /: "us" ]**

.

.

They're invited to Elsa's apartment after she has weaned off the pain killers.

 _Anna and the King_ is about to be removed from Netflix, so they devour it after a homemade dinner. Elsa falls asleep with her head in Rapunzel's lap and her feet on Eugene's knees. He pushes his glasses up on his nose, using Elsa's ankles to write a story on. Rapunzel strokes her bangs, using Elsa's face to draw a picture of. With her mellow smile, tucked chin, folded hands, and messy braid, she looks harmless.

And above all else, beautiful. Wholesome, even. _'Innocent.'_

Just suffering alone.

But not anymore.

Rapunzel kisses Elsa's temple when Eugene leaves the room.

.

.

 **[ thirty-seven /: "her" ]**

.

.

They're invited to Elsa's apartment after she's feeling rejuvenated.

She looks beautiful. Like a newborn woman instead of a dying little girl.

They end up watching her finish a clay sculpture from last year. Eugene is just as amazed as Rapunzel is, and tries to express his amazement by going on and on about how much money she can make off one head bust alone.

Elsa says she doesn't sculpt for the money. She sculpts for the love of it. She expands upon how art is therapeutic for her the way writing and drawing are therapeutic for them. How it allows her, like theatre work, to express herself in a way that she can not express herself in ordinary life. She sounds in love with herself again, with her imagination, with the fresh air of the morning, the warmth of the sun...

And they just sit there, drinking in every drop.

When she finally glances at them, she looks so youthful and happy.

...Eugene clears his throat and looks away first. " _I_ should, d'ah..."―he stands up and rubs his legs―"...get some refreshments for you ladies." He forces himself to smile. "What're you two having?"

.

.

 **[ thirty-eight /: "her" ]**

.

.

Eugene is talking on speaker at five in the afternoon. She sees him close his laptop and perch his reading glasses on his head, holding the phone to his mouth. "How're you feeling today, Sugarsnow?" He's trying not to sound nervous.

Elsa snorts. He smiles.

 _"Alive."_

...Eugene rubs his face with his hand and then leans back against the chair, exhaling. He looks like he's trying not to cry. "Great." He smiles again. "That's wonderful to hear."

 _"...Your voice sounds different. Is something wrong?"_

"Huh? Oh. No, I'm just a little tired, is all. I know Rapunzel called you earlier, but I just wanted to check in before I checked out of the rest of my day today."

 _"I'm happy you did."_ Pause. _"I missed your corny quips yesterday."_

 _"..."_

"Um."Eugene can't look at the phone."Listen, Elsa...―I'm gonna hafta give you a call later tonight, if that's okay with you. There's this chapter I have to send over to my editor by six, and it's already―..."

 _"I'm way ahead of you,"_ she playfully informs him. _"I have an assignment to finish up myself."_ Sigh. _"So. I guess I'll be talking to you later tonight...?"_

Eugene's nerves get better."You'll talk to me tonight."

 _"...I'm holding you to that, Mr. Fitzherbert."_

"You have my word."

Her voice is smiling. _"Then talk to you soon."_

His nerves get worse. "Talk to you soon. _"_ Pause. "Bye." He ends the call too fast. Then puts his elbows on his desk and holds his face.

Rapunzel hesitantly opens his door wider as she tucks a brown strand behind her ear. "Is everything~ _alright,_ Eugene...?" Her smile is sad.

"Huh?" Eugene's eyes are wet when he looks back at her. "Oh! _Yes_." He quickly knuckles his nose and sniffs. "Yes, of _course_." Composure doesn't find him. "It's just, uh..."

She touches his shoulder in an effort to make him feel comfortable with opening up.

He stares into space for a moment, and then gives her a sincere expression. "I was a little afraid that she'd..."―the ball in his throat bobs―"had _enough_..."

The confession scares her as much as it scares him for leaving his mouth, but she hides her horror behind denial. "Elsa wouldn't do that. We've seen her fight every single day. She _wants_ to live. She's stronger than she could ever imagine..."

Stronger than both of them, because it's not a life that either of them would be able to live.

"...Yeah. I know."

She smiles warmly at him, and then kisses him. The smile he returns is lovesick.

.

.

 **[ thirty-nine /: "h i m" ]**

.

.

Eugene is talking on the phone at five in the morning. Walking around the bedroom. Sanding his hand through his hair. Saying something about _a love story about a woman falling in love with herself_ and _never being afraid to love herself_ _because she_ _knows exactly who she is_ and how it'll be his next big thing, because "she" inspired it and "she" should know how strong she is. How if it ever sees the light, he wants her to be the star; a walking, talking carbon copy wrapped up in one empowering package.

The crackled chuckle on the other end is stuffy and sad. It says, _"You always write stories about people who already know themselves. What about your story? Do you know yourself?"_

He says nothing. Ends the call after a goodnight. Climbs back into bed. Sighs.

Rapunzel stares at the clock.

Maybe he still wants to be numb.

.

.

 **[ forty /: "t h e m" ]**

.

.

She finds them at the cafe without her.

Elsa's hands are holding his story. Eugene's hands are holding his elbows. He mouths something about getting _cold feet_. Something about how he doesn't know if he can go on. About how he doesn't know how to be her.

Elsa touches his arm, cranes her neck out, and says, "Then just be yourself..."

He looks up at her like a little boy.

She smiles sweetly and rests a hand on his, giving it a reassuring stroke.

He's staring at her like he's having a hard time swallowing.

And it feels odd to watch them from the door, like the way they don't hug each other but still hug each other with their eyes, because it makes her want to leave...

"...Elsa, there's something else I need to get off my chest―"

She leaves before she can hear the rest of the conversation they're having without her.

.

.

 **[ forty-one /: "h i m" ]**

.

.

From the window, she sees him talking on the phone in the cafe. Sitting in the corner. Biting his knuckles. Mouthing something about _how hard it is to write_ _a love story_ _about falling in love with yourself_ and _never being afraid to love yourself_ _when you hate who you are_ and how it'll be his next big breakdown, because "she" inspired it and "she" should know how difficult it is.

The pause he makes while he listens to the response is deafening and sad.

She doesn't walk in. Doesn't grill him after he ends the call without a goodbye. Doesn't return home after six.

She finds a bench and sniffles under the sodium lamp.

He wants to be numb permanently and he won't tell her why.

.

.

 **[ forty-two /: "h i m" ]**

.

.

She washes dishes at six in the morning. Hears Eugene's squelchy feet enter the kitchen.

"Rapunzel...?" It's the voice of a little boy.

She doesn't turn around.

"We need to talk." He musters the baritone of a man.

She stops scrubbing. Grips the plate in her hands. Sets it down as calmly as she can. "What do you want to talk about, Eugene?"

He's scared now. "I..."

She faces him with disappointment and hurt. "...You've been keeping secrets from me, haven't you...?"

"No!" His hands fly up. " _No_ , not..."―his hands sink―"not _exactly_ ―"

"What'd you mean, 'not exactly?'" She's in disbelief. "You won't even talk to me anymore. You're shutting me out of certain parts of your _life_ ―"

"Rapunzel, it's not what it looks like..." His frown is firm. "I just needed some time to figure things out―"

"Why do _I_ have to wait if _Elsa_ doesn't?" Her heartbroken yell sounds congested. "Why do both of you shut me out when something's _affecting_ you?"

"Ra-PUN-zel, this _isn't_ about _Elsa_. _.._!" Eugene grabs her hands and looks deeply into her eyes. He softens his voice on the followup, "This is about _me_. _Only_ me. I'm sorry that I haven't been more available to you lately, but it wasn't because I was planning on leaving you behind. You're my dream." He's trying not to tear up.

She beats him to it. "Then why won't you tell me what's _wrong_ with you, Eugene...?"

He swallows hard.

.

.

 **[ forty-three /: "h i m" ]**

.

.

The day transitions from morning to noontime as his heart unrolled onto the dining room table: letters from a man claiming to be the father who'd orphaned him ― a man who wanted to get to know who he was. Bad childhood memories swelling back up in ink-stained journals. Confessions about his inability to find comfort in his alter ego. The bitter need to rewrite himself into someone he can like without knowing how.

Rapunzel lifts his chin and makes him gaze into her squinting eyes. "But why didn't you ever _say_ anything, Eugene? You could've told me." She smiles understandingly even though smiling is not what she wants to do. "You _know_ I would've listened to your every word."

"I didn't know how to verbalize it," he says, not looking at her. "...Or maybe I just didn't want to figure out how. It's always been easier to pretend that he doesn't exist." To pretend that his pain doesn't exist. To conceal and not feel.

"But he's still a part of who you are, Eugene."

"And that's the worst part."

"It's not the worst part." She brushes his hair out of his eyes. "It's the best part, because he gave me you."

Eugene's sad smile glows with affection and gratitude.

She briefly bites her lip. "...Were you only able to verbalize it with Elsa?" She's feeling sad again. "Is that why you've been talking on the phone so much?"

"No, I didn't. I gave her a few identity crisis hints that probably made her think I was losing my _mind_ , but... _ultimately_ I just..."

"Needed to talk to someone who relates."

"...I don't like putting it that way―"

"Eugene, I don't mind if it's that way." Irritation. "I just don't want to feel like you're hiding yourself from me."

"I'm not. I _won't_."

She wants that to be true. She knows he does, too.

"Do you trust me?"

She sighs. Tries to smile. It looks forced. "...I trust you."

.

.

 **[ forty-four /: "us" ]**

.

.

Rapunzel dials up Elsa. Expresses her concern for Eugene. Asks her what he's told her. Doesn't ask Elsa why _she_ never told her _._

Elsa is frank. She tells her that he seemed lost and unwilling to be direct about what he needed to find his way. Their conversations were incoherent, and he masked his personal troubles behind the fictional characters whom he needed "help" with writing. He called it a "career crisis," yet she didn't pry. She already knew he was reliving his childhood just by looking into his eyes. "They look like a little boy's eyes sometimes," she describes.

"Hmph." Rapunzel smiles sadly at that.

Elsa adds that he showed her a story he was writing about a little orphan in New York. _His story_. A story he wanted to show Rapunzel.

Rapunzel's breath stands still.

"He asked me to look it over to see how much felt raw, how much felt _real_ , and completely naked, without purple prose and focusing on heroics. He romanticizes himself by habit," she says. "He romanticizes people when he cares for them. But he wanted you to see more of himself."

A tear falls from Rapunzel's nose.

"I think the problem is that he doesn't know if _he's_ ready to see more of himself. The main thing he opened up to me about at the cafe was how thankful he was to be able to call you and I his family. I planned on telling you about my concerns, but I wasn't sure how to approach the situation. I didn't want to impose, or do what he's meant to do for himself...which is open up."

.

.


	2. II

_**Author Note**_

* * *

 _I'm told this is too long, so I chopped it in half._

* * *

 **[ 유웃유]**

* * *

 **[ forty-five /: "us" ]**

.

.

They all meet on Broadway to distance themselves from real life at Eugene's behest.

Elsa looks like a Hollywood starlet from the Golden Age in her ravishing green evening gown. The raiment has a fit-and-flare look with a low V-neck that comes off quite classy on her. Emerald teardrops swing from her ear lobes to match the emerald buckles on her high heels. There is no iconic braid this time ― only a snow-blonde ocean of beach waves that curl all the way down her bottom. Although her makeup is subtle, her appearance is incredibly bold ― undoubtedly a response to being bundled up in smothering articles of clothing for the entire year ― and Rapunzel's eyes can't stop twinkling at how heart-stopping she is, as if she was never bedridden from the start.

But Elsa's confident smile, which always hangs at an angle, is the real sensation. The sunflower princess isn't nearly as dressy ― not in the Elsa way, at least. She prefers a very simple soprano dress with a blue shade, something that doesn't distract people from _her._ Makeup is alien, but her face is powdered with coral blush that echoes the shimmer in her pink lip gloss. She's even wearing white floral heels for the first time. Heels weren't even a thing at her wedding. The mission to get as far away from real life as possible has obviously been a success.

"You look _beautiful_ ," Elsa pitches, genuinely taken with Rapunzel's dress.

Rapunzel is genuinely stumped. " _I_ look beautiful? Look at _you_! _You_ look beautiful!"

"You _both_ look beautiful," Eugene insists, trying to get them off this debate. " _We_ look beautiful." He isn't wrong; his beige sateen suit is crispy and elegant enough to elevate him to beauty pageant pretty, too.

"That red sweater looks handsome on you," Elsa highlights.

Unaccustomed to any compliments from her, Eugene looks away and stretches his collar. "... _.Well_ , I, uh...eheh,"―he covers his fluster with pride―"do my very _best_. Hafta keep up with the likes of Queen Elsa, don't I?"

One side of Elsa's smile gains an inch in height.

"Come on, you two," Rapunzel chuckles. "Let's get to the show before too many cameras start flashing at us."

"All aboard, ladies?"

"All aboard."

Together, the trio walk into Wicked with Elsa and Rapunzel gliding arm in arm while Eugene follows awkwardly behind. And for a moment, Rapunzel can pretend that everything is and will be fine.

.

.

 **[ forty-six /: "us" ]**

.

.

They all leave Broadway to find the next best nirvana at Rapunzel's behest. Elsa lightly sings, "Defying Gravity" while they wait for their cab on the sidewalk. Rapunzel is delighted to hear her singing again. Eugene isn't opposed to the melody, either. His wife could tell that they were both mentally sighing the same words: _"Thank God she's found herself again."_

"Hey." Rapunzel pinches Eugene's waist, having been wrapped up in his arms. "What if Fiyero, Glinda, and Elphaba turned out to be _one_ big happy couple in the end?" she jokes.

He arches an eyebrow. "Now _that_ would be a trope-bulldozer."

.

.

 **[ forty-seven /: "us" ]**

.

.

Nirvana is found in a karaoke bar that Rapunzel decides to drag Elsa and Eugene into. The setting isn't as awkward as they expect it to be by the time Eugene is pushed onto the stage ― at least not until he has to coax Elsa into not recording his surprisingly good rendition of Zachary Levi's, "In Love With You." He always knows how to put on a show so long as an audience is pumping him up. Rapunzel walks on with a little encouragement from Elsa and Eugene, but Eugene's humiliating introduction for her, which was ribboned with something like, "Ladies and _gen_ -tle-man, I _give_ you...! Ra-PUN-zelll~," made her shier on the mic than she was when she left her seat.

"Um..." Rapunzel adjusts the mic as she tucks back her hair, receiving a screech from it. "Oops! _Sorry_! I'm _so_ , so sorry! I was just trying―..."―she sighs and drops her face in her hands, muffling her groan with her palms―"to ruin my whole entire life."

"Uh, just one~ second, ladies and gentleman! We'll be _right_ back with you!"

 _Thud thud thud thud._ Rapunzel peeks between her fingers when she feels Eugene's hands warm her shoulders.

He's smiling gently at her like they're the only two in the room. "Just pretend I'm the only one you're singing to tonight."

Rapunzel lowers her hands and glances at Elsa.

She returns her glance with a worried one, but then smiles with curled eyebrows.

"You'll do _fin_ e," Eugene says, rerouting her attention.

"You're right." Rapunzel takes a breath. "Okay." She smiles and nods, half-confident now. "I can do this."

"That's my girl."

But her attempt isn't a good one. The voice that quivers into the mic doesn't find its leverage until the crowd joins in for Mandy Moore's, "Cry." Elsa, who's never heard her sing before, watches her the whole time without blinking once. Her growing grins widens Rapunzel's.

Eugene whispered, _"What I'd tell you?"_ into Elsa's ear before cheering on his wife.

The performance received overwhelming praise, but the only praises she took to heart were the misty eyes Elsa and Eugene gave her.

"You would be perfect on Broadway," Elsa tells her outside of the bar, her world still enriched by the experience.

"Aheh." Rapunzel shifts her eyes, running her hand through her wig. "I~ don't know about _that_...I mean, I've never been in a _production_ before. Not as an actress, anyway. Mother always said―"

"That she was a tone-deaf harpy who couldn't tell a canary from a crow," Eugene says, bristling at the memories.

Elsa doesn't know what to make of his input, but Rapunzel realizes that it's her fault for bringing her up.

"Rapunzel has a _spectacular_ voice," he continues. "She's got the _best_ voice I've ever heard."

"He's right," Elsa parrots, clearly sensing Rapunzel's discomfort. "It's something I'd love to hear more often."

"I'd love to hear _you_ more often," Rapunzel boomerangs.

Eugene smirks at Elsa. "You _were_ the only one who got out of getting up there, weren't you?"

Smiling, Elsa holds her evening scarf and waves her hand. "I'm too tired to deal with a sore throat tonight. Maybe another night."

"Alright then, Little Missy. We'll be holding you to that." Eugene winks.

Elsa rolls her eyes as her smile dimples her cheeks.

Eugene chuckles.

.

.

 **[ forty-eight /: "us" ]**

.

.

They all leave the city to find comfort in the condo at Elsa's behest. Ray Charles's, "I Can't Stop Loving You" is put on in the living room.

"Can I get you ladies anything?"

"I wouldn't mind a glass of Sparkling Cider."

"And what'll you have, Your Majesty?"

"Chocolates, if you'd be so kind."

"Chocolates and Sparkling Cider coming _right_ up."

Unwinding two hours later means gallons of wine for Eugene, tons of See's Candies for Elsa, and loads of slow dancing lessons from Rapunzel. Elsa didn't know how to dance with partners, so Rapunzel was happy to show her, having waltzed with invisible partners for most of her life. The former watches their shoeless feet more than she watches Rapunzel's eyes, but the latter is glad for it. A smile buoys up on Elsa's face once she gets the hang of _one-two-three_. Eugene's tender gaze clings to them as he listens to their giggles from the couch.

.

.

 **[ forty-nine /: "t h e m" ]**

.

.

Rapunzel's consciousness leaves her brain to find comfort in sleep at her body's behest. With her head in Elsa's lap, she's out before the ending credits of Jules and Jim roll up. Voices coming and going like sea foam soak the sandy line between dreaming and waking.

"What do you think she'll want most for Christmas?" Elsa is saying.

"The Kevyn Aucoin paint brush collection. No doubt about it," Eugene is saying. "I'm just not sure if I have the funds this year around..."

"...I wouldn't mind lending a hand, if it's not too presumptuous."

"I think we can arrange that."

"...Hey," Eugene says. "You okay?"

"..."

"...How do you leave that place?" Elsa's voice is wistful.

"Are you talking about the theatre?"

Softly, "...Yeah."

"I don't." Pause. "I never have."

"..."

"...It's almost like the real world will never be good enough," Elsa confesses.

"That's actually a perfect way of describing it..."

"..."

"...Thank you...for allowing me to dream a little, Eugene. I know I always...go _on_ about you never keeping your head in the real world, but...I needed to dream, for once..."

"...It's been my pleasure." Pause. "Thank _you_ for making mine come true."

"..."

"...My father...he tried to steer me away from Broadway when he was alive, but I couldn't be helped; I loved the stage too much. I love being there with people, and having them be there with me in the moment. It's like this emotional connection I would've never known, and not just one with person, but with the world. And that shared love ― even if it was for that one moment ― felt like the anchor I've never had."

"..."

"I guess I can only find true connections with people when I'm on stage." Elsa's voice is smiling pitifully at herself. "It's harder to even find or feel that kind of oneness with people in real life."

"..."

"The best part about it all is that there aren't any restraints on stage. You can shout. You can sing. You can cry." Pause. "You can draw from a place that you can't usually draw from in front of other people. And you can be _utterly_ ridiculous without worrying about it being out of place in a public setting."

Eugene's chuckle is light.

"...I'm trying to learn how to be that free in real life when it comes to certain things now."

"..."

"It's terrifying...but...I want to try."

"..."

"I don't want every day to just be about making it to the end of it."

"..."

"I can't bear living like that anymore."

"..."

"What about you?"

Eugene clears his throat. "Me?"

"How did the stage make you feel?"

"...Um. Well, I guess it's...it was _different_ for me."

"In what way?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Is that so?"

"...What?" Elsa laughs nervously. "Why're you _starin_ g at me like that?"

"No reason." Pause. "I just missed this."

"This?"

"You."

"..."

"Us."

"..."

"All three of us."

"..."

"..."

"...I missed us, too."

"..."

"I should probably go."

"... _Why_?"

"It's getting late."

"...Rapunzel might want―"

"I have to go."

Feet shuffle. Keys jingle. The front door yawns.

"Are you sure you don't want me to call a cab―"

"I'll be fine."

"..."

"Thank you for tonight."

"...My pleasure." Eugene's voice is low.

"...I hope you two enjoy the rest of your night."

"..."

"Oh, and please tell Rapunzel that I said―"

"I will." Pause. "Remember to look both ways before leaving the stairwell."

Snort. "I will."

"Goodnight."

"...Goodnight."

"..."

Heels click. The door closes. Socks shuffle. Weight sinks the couch.

Sigh. "...That woman is an unpredictable blizzard."

.

.

 **[ fifty /: "t h e m" ]**

.

.

Rapunzel walks to Central Park with Eugene on a sunny day.

Elsa is there, but she's with someone.

A redheaded someone.

A handsome someone.

Someone they don't know.

"Who's _that_?"

" _Not_ a clue, but I don't like the looks of that guy."

"Let's go meet him―"

"Ah, ah, ah! _Might_ not be the _best_ idea, Sunshine. Zoom in."

The redhead lays his hand on Elsa's waist as he guides her to his sleek limo. She doesn't recoil.

"...You think she likes him?" Rapunzel asks drearily.

"Of _course_ not," Eugene objects. "She's just being polite. She's polite to everyone and doesn't like anyone." But he's rubbernecking.

"...She doesn't call me as much anymore. Our last conversation was a whole month ago."

"Well, she's got her own life now. That's all it is."

"Right?"

.

.

 **[ fifty-one /: "us" ]**

.

.

An invite is texted to them on a smileless Valentines Day. It's a request to attend the wedding of the actor who played Prince Kai.

Eugene says they can't turn down free wine. When they arrive, they realize that free wine comes second in importance.

With flushed cheeks, closed eyes, a raised chin, blonde curls, and a blue tea-length dress, Elsa is like the _Rita Hayworth_ of the stage. And above all else, she sounds beautiful. Breathtaking, even. Like a vocal harp that speaks to your soul. She stirs their inmost emotions by uncorking her own, working as the raw vessel they project themselves onto, like a real beacon.

When she steps down from the stage and into the applauding crowd, she pauses at the sight of Eugene and Rapunzel. "..."

A breeze blows. The wispy curls that hang over Elsa's ears seem to be the only objects moving.

Eugene clears his throat to ask Elsa how her hands are doing.

...She says that they're fine, amused by how he asks.

.

.

 **[ fifty-two /: "t h e m" ]**

.

.

"Did you see how _gorgeous_ she looked?" the gush is whispered across a flowered table top during the bride's dance with her father.

Eugene drinks from his wineglass and then slams it down, exhaling. " _Nope_. Didn't even notice."

"It feels like she's changed." Rapunzel isn't paying attention to him. "Something's just so... _different_ about her. Like she's finally―..."

They watch Elsa chat among her redheaded friend's circle like the perfect hostess of a tea party.

"...In love?" Eugene supplies.

Rapunzel frowns at Eugene. "...You think she's in _love_ with him?"

Eugene frowns at Hans. " _Most_ likely."

Rapunzel rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right. Elsa told me that she's not attracted to women or _men_."

"Elsa's been isolated for most of her life _._ I don't think she knows _what_ she's attracted to. Until now, anyway. I get from her that she's demi."

"...But she doesn't even _know_ him."

Eugene looks at her softly. "Do you remember how long it took us to connect?"

...Rapunzel smiles softly at him, but the smile dies a slow death. She watches Hans touch Elsa's elbow. Elsa doesn't recoil.

"I'm glad she's happy," Eugene says. "It looks good on her." Then he drinks from his wineglass and slams it down, exhaling.

Rapunzel miserably clutches a lock from her wig.

.

.

 **[ fifty-three /: "u s" ]**

.

.

Ray Charles's, "I Can't Stop Loving You" is playing in the background.

Elsa dances with Eugene first under the fairy lights. She steps on his feet twice, but he laughs off the pain in between her promises to make it up to him. Her dance with Rapunzel is far smoother, perhaps because they only have to hold the hands of little flower girls. At nighttime, Elsa introduces Rapunzel to her redheaded friend. The redhead's name is Hans.

Eugene doesn't like Hans. He's too...

Yes man-y.

During Hans's story time, Eugene asks if he can pull Elsa aside.

Elsa obliges by excusing herself, but she doesn't look happy when he leads her to a rosebush. "What is it?"

"Listen, uh..." Eugene can't get past the first word of his sentence.

"I _am_ listening."

"...I-I want you,"―Eugene stammers―"and my wife to be part of things if I take on the project about Rapunzel and the Snow Queen."

Elsa frowns even though her lips are smiling."What're you saying right now, Eugene...?"

He looks into her eyes and swallows hard.

She stares at him like she doesn't know how to see what she's seeing in his eyes.

"Just come back," he says. "Please."

And it feels odd to watch them from the plank fence, like the way they don't hold each other but still hold each other with their eyes, because it makes Rapunzel want to hold them both. She pets the back of her lacefront and approaches them. Eugene and Elsa don't look at her like she has walked in on something they don't want her to see. They look at her like they have been waiting for her all along.

But Elsa's eyes don't touch Eugene's again. They touch the floor and her hands, but not Eugene's eyes. Somewhere between the modest smiles, countless drinks, nervous fidgets, and random politics, Elsa jokes about how amusing it would be if polygamy was legal. Eugene says that would be a mess.

Rapunzel whispers to no one except herself that it would be a new dream. In the midst of wine and laughter she's not sharing, Elsa leaves before the event ends and doesn't call them to say she made it home.

.

.

 **[ fifty-four /: "h i m" ]**

.

.

Eugene says that he's going to meet Elsa at the coffee shop. His eyes look bloodshot.

She asks him if he's okay.

He says he's fine.

Rapunzel miserably clutches a lock from her wig.

He always says things are fine, but that day he kept looking at his hands like he didn't know them.

.

.

 **[ fifty-five /: "h e r" ]**

.

.

Rapunzel checks Eugene's text messages while he's asleep. She reads one from Elsa that says, _"I can't do this."_

There are no replies and the convo chain doesn't explain the change of topic.

She knows what it means.

.

.

 **[ fifty-six /: "h e r" ]**

.

.

She meets Elsa at the cafe.

The blonde is smoking. Smoking even though she has lupus.

She asks her if she's trying to kill herself.

Elsa says no, but she'll have a reason.

.

.

 **[ fifty-seven /: "t h e m" ]**

.

.

The coffee table is littered with cigarettes and tears instead of stories.

Ray Charles's, "I Can't Stop Loving You" is playing in the living room.

And Eugene hasn't come back home for dinner.

.

.

* * *

 **AUTHOR NOTE**

* * *

 ** _Warning: don't believe Rapunzel's perception too much._** _This is actually really old; just added some things to it. The sequel is, **"Us (Ternion)."**_

 _I'm going to dedicate it to **butterflydreaming** since we talked about a "polyamorous" Eugene/Rapunzel/Elsa, and it just might be **OT3 gold**. __It started off as a "regular" love triangle with "emotional cheating," and then suddenly,_ _I genuinely wanted them all to "be together" here, despite the issues the narrator had with "feeling left out."_


End file.
